Pakistan's leader must cast aside the philosopher's stone

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Throughout the summer, Inzamam-ul-Haq has been castigated for
his laid-back approach to the game. The criticism has not been
unjust. Mexicans slumbering under their sombreros in the desperate
heat of an arid afternoon could not appear dozier than Inzers as he
potters about in the field.

His team needed an orator and instead had a philosopher who
responds to calamity with a shrug of the shoulders, an attitude
that has helped him to become a fine batsman but has put in peril
his position as captain. Whereas an Australian or English captain
is appointed until the end of his career, his country sacks its
leader when things go awry.

Inzamam's essential gentleness has been a handicap to his
performance at the helm of a struggling side. Whereas his stoicism
and sportsmanship were praised in the recent tumultuous series with
India, now his inactivity has been censured.

Over the years Pakistan's most successful captains have been
forceful characters who led from the front. They grabbed the ball
and strode back to their marks with fire in their eyes. Partly it
is the nature of a country in which the warrior instinct remains to
the fore, where pride is the primary motivating force.

Inzamam is more the sleepy type who seeks to rule with patience
and sweet reason, an approach that bestows upon players a trust and
respect they may not deserve. Ultimately his passivity may be his
undoing, yet he is not entirely to blame for the misfortunes that
have befallen his side or for the frailties detected in his
colleagues. In cricket, though, it is the captain's lot to carry
the can.

Nor has Inzamam sufficiently resisted the pressures of the
moment. It is not enough to become hot under the collar, as he did
in Canada, upon some personal slight such as being compared to a
potato by an unruly spectator. Better to react with creative fury
to the failures of his side.

Rather than rallying his men, Inzamam retreated further into
himself in a manner not unknown upon despairing leaders, including
defeated politicians. Although understandable, this response merely
extends the agony. Only in the past few days has Pakistan's captain
emerged from his period of reflection fully to accept the
responsibilities that accompany his position as leader and standing
as senior batsman.

Yesterday Inzamam did his utmost to hold the Pakistani innings
together, a feat accomplished with skilful batting and squandered
with a reckless stroke at a part-time spinner.

On this occasion his contemplative temperament was more a help
than a hindrance. Sometimes calmness has much to commend it.

Facing top-class pace under thick cloud and upon a freshened
pitch is such an occasion. Certainly Inzamam's repose was a
blessing as the ball whooped around like a pursued buck. Whereas
younger comrades fidgeted, flirted and flicked, the old stager
peered at the pitch and plotted his progress. Clearly he did not
regard the sight of the ball misbehaving as sufficient reason to
abandon hope.

Contemporary batsmen are not as well versed in the craft of
countering the moving ball as members of the older school. Trained
in the attacking skills required to prosper in the modern game,
they are adept at hitting through the line of the ball. Allowing
awkward deliveries to pass, avoiding playing away from the body and
closing the gap between bat and pad are not as important to
them.

Accordingly, teams nowadays score swiftly but are vulnerable
when the ball moves around. As much could be told from Australia's
collapse against Pedro Collins at the Gabba and from the poor
performance of Pakistan's less experienced batsmen at the SCG. As a
rule it is the seasoned campaigners raised in more insecure times
who succeed in demanding conditions.

Inzamam batted admirably in the face of some probing offerings
from Glenn McGrath, a man born to bowl on pitches of this sort.

Casting aside the gloom that affected him upon his call proving
incorrect, he played every ball on its merits. Most particularly
the full face of the bat was used, a strategy that reduced the
chances of an edge. His innings was impressive. His downfall was
unworthy. Delighted to be facing mild spin, he stooped to sweep and
could scarcely believe his eyes as the ball dropped into the hands
of a distant fieldsman.

Inzamam trudged back to the pavilion at the pace of a tortoise
on its way to the dentist. He had a lot to think about. Although
his lower-order men swung lustily, his side did not bat its 50
overs, a carelessness that was partly his fault. Inzamam must
realise that his young side looks towards him.